


But Now it Always Floods with Rain

by wyestmsiylmys



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Community: hannibalkink, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rape Aftermath, Rape Kit, Rape/Non-con Elements, Will tries to help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyestmsiylmys/pseuds/wyestmsiylmys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alana I need... I still need to take you to the hospital,” he told her watching her deflate even more- how was that even possible?<br/>“I know... I know, can we just...” finally looking up to meet his gaze for only a couple of seconds before dropping back down. Will craved more, “sit for a minute.”<br/>"As long as you need.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/2676.html?thread=5020532
> 
>  
> 
> _"Alana is the victim of a terrible attack (beaten, raped, etc.). The motives can be personal/intentional, or it could just be a 'wrong place, wrong time' thing. Will finds out. He sees the evidence (the place where it happened, the injuries on Alana, etc), and through that, he's able to put himself in the mind of whoever did this. He tries to experience exactly what happened to Alana (he's more than capable of doing it), but it proves to be extremely unsettling for him (he's literally in the position of the person hurting her, seeing her cry, hearing her pleas to stop, etc.). He struggles between not wanting to experience what happened to her, and knowing that he /needs/ to experience it, so that he can catch whoever did this and make them pay."_
> 
>  
> 
> I know it was a little while go but shhh. 
> 
> Tags will be edited as needed as the story goes on. 
> 
> I hope it's okay x

It was late when the familiar, shrill ring of the phone cut harshly through the still of the little house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Unfortunately, this was far from a rare occurrence. 

No, it was a disheartening how common it was for Will Graham to be woken in the early hours by Agent Crawford needing him to be dragged to one grotesque crime scene or another- although it was sadly even more common to not actually be woken by the phone; to already be downstairs two fingers of whiskey in the glass by his side, his pack gathered around his feet, and his attention firmly placed on the thin strands of thread and feathers as he delicately fashioned together yet another fishing lore. 

Well, it was better than dreaming.

Tonight was one of those nights, and Will huffed, unimpressed as he noted the time (2:37am), finished off the whiskey, and pushed away from the desk to follow the sound of the ringing phone, the sound of Winston’s claws on the floor as he followed him out of the room, curious as to why Master was suddenly moving having been hunched over for so long. Just because he was up so late didn’t mean he had to leave the warmth and safety of his home. 

He didn’t bother to look at the caller ID, why bother? There was only one person who’d find the reason to call him at this hour. “They aren’t paying us enough for these hours, Jack” he said by way of greeting, not bothering to hide the snarky edge to his tone. There was no reply and the silence stretched on an uncomfortable length, “Jack?” 

“I’m sorry Will, it’s too late I shouldn’t have called.” Although it was clear the voice didn’t belong to Jack Crawford, it was so quiet and nervous that it took a couple of seconds for Will to even pair the voice with Alana Bloom. No, that couldn’t be right, Alana was so strong so sure of herself and confident, a part of him genuinely believed it would be impossible for the woman to sound so shaken and wrecked even if she wanted to. 

“Alana?” he had to ask, needed the confirmation, hoping he was mistaken but knowing he wasn’t. A small sniffle was all the reply he had. It didn’t sound like she was crying now, but was clear she had been. Blue eyes found the clock again, annoyance drained his body to make way for the concern for why she’d need to call at this hour. Alana would never call so late unless she had no other choice, unless it was important. And why had she been crying? “No, Alana, I was up anyway, the, err... The dogs were whining to go out,” it was a lie, and Will didn’t know why he’d felt the need to lie, to justify just why he was awake, but evidently he did. “What’s happened? Is everything okay?” 

Another pause, this one seemed to go on even longer, and was filled with something more ominous, the hair stood up on the back of his neck at the drawn our pause. 

He could hear another sniff, “n-no,” she said finally, the word was so soft, so quiet Will found himself holding his breath, straining to hear, “no- can you... I’m sorry I know it’s late...” a sigh, and Will could practically see her head drop, her hand brush her hair back from her face, frustration at her own inability to articulate what she was trying to, “something... something’s happened, I know it’s so late but can you... maybe come here... To my house... Now.” 

“I’m on my way,” he promised already going up the stairs taking them two at a time to put some jeans on over the tight blue boxers he’d worn to bed that night, she sounded so quiet, so unsure, so not Alana, there was really no other option than to get there, than to do whatever it was she asked of him right then, without question. Well, with one question, “Alana, are you okay?” There was a beat and:  
“I don’t know.”  
“I’m literally walking on the front door now,” okay, he wasn’t, but he would be within seconds, “do you want to stay on the phone?” she didn’t, and will hung up after promising to not be long, wishing she’d change her mind so he could stay on the line. 

The one good thing about the roads at this time was that there was very little traffic, and Will was able to make the trip into Baltimore in record time, granted he may have broken one or two laws in the process, but a ticket or two was hardly important in the grand scheme of things. But still it felt like the drive had taken hours, the entire time all Will could concentrate on was wondering what had happened. He’d had very little to go on, something had happened, obviously something bad, and she didn’t know if she was okay.

Eventually, Will found himself on the familiar front porch, hand raised already knocking on Alana’s front door. 

He could hear her moving from somewhere inside the house, and saw the curtain in the widow by the door shift as she checked who was there, immediately followed by the sound of the key turn and then, finally the door was open and there she was in the flesh. “Hey,” in that same quiet voice from the phone call was that much worse, that much more heartbreaking in person. 

The first thing Will noticed, was the black eye, although clearly fresh and not yet settled, it was already angry and was going to be a bad one, all ready will could see the edges of the bruise creep to cover such a large portion of her face. It wasn’t the only injury on her face; another bruise was forming on her jaw just below a nasty split lip. Someone hurt her. Someone hit her again and again. Her hair was still wet, although starting to dry at in curls at the ends, and she smelt distinctly of soap and shampoo, clean. He watched her as she timidly stepped to the side letting him in before quickly locking the door up tight again. “The living room is just this way,” she said leading the way. It wasn’t necessary, he’d been over enough times to know his way around, but it filled the awkward quiet, it delayed the inevitable questions, and he followed without word. 

She didn’t look at him, not directly, her stare firmly settled on his shoulder, arms folded across her chest protectively. It was unusual, he wasn’t used to being on the receiving side of a refusal of eye contact, and for the first time in years, he found himself craving it. Instead he allowed his own gaze to skip from one injury to the other, knowing he’d never forget the painful contrast between the darkening bruises and her naturally fair, although now looked ashen and sick, tone. 

Alana went across to the sofa on the far side of the room putting the most distance between them that she could, and as she did, Will took in the room. It was... well, it was normal. It wasn’t trashed or ransacked, it wasn’t even messy, everything seemed to be perfectly in its place- as always with her. Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but that wasn’t it, normal wasn’t it. The door to the kitchen was open and that looked normal too. Whatever happened, it hadn’t happened here. His attention went firmly back to his friend and Will couldn’t not notice how slow she was as she tried to sit on the comfortable sofa, nor her harsh wince stabbed into his chest as she was finally seated. 

He had a feeling what was coming, his own intuition quickly coming to conclusions before Alana even suggested hints, and he silently pleaded to be wrong. 

“Alana?” he asked, staying on his side of the room, not wanting to crowd her, not wanting to scare her if he was right- he knew he was. “What happened?” 

Alana looked away, not even looking in his direction now as her chest inflated with a breath, preparing herself, buying herself more time, and weighing every word on her tongue carefully, none of them tasting right, these were words she’d never thought she’d say. 

Alana fidgeted, it was a strange sight, in all the time he’d known her, Will couldn’t remember once he’d seen her fidget, until she finally settled leaning against the arm rest, quickly changing her mind and saying instead:“I shouldn’t have dragged you out here,” she decided instead, “I’m sorry,”  
“Stop Apologising,” he pleaded more than ordered before she’d even finished speaking the hushed apology, and asked again: “what happened?” More fidgeting, more internal debate, choosing her words carefully,  
“There was someone in my room,” it was so blunt, so matter-of-fact, it almost didn’t seem real.  
“What?” No. Alana sniffed once, her hand flying to wipe the tear that had escaped from her eye before she’d even have chance to stop it, from her cheek quickly.  
“I woke up. And there was someone there.” 

She pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees, eyes still on the rug, noticing an old, small stain in the corner, her conscious trying to focus on the stain, the memory of where it came from (Where did that even come from?) instead of the events of the night. Watching her in that moment, Will couldn’t help but notice how physically small she looked wrapped up in the small ball, how young she looked, her tone was blunt and to the point, but her body language betrayed how violated she felt. 

Alana wasn’t crying, save that lone tear she’d tried to hide. Not now, but she sniffed, and her eyes were red and puffy exposing the tears she’d already shed, and all Will wanted was to race across the room, wrap his arms around her, and make it all better, but knowing how inappropriate such an action was. He’d never been one to particularly enjoy physical contact, and it was practically unheard of that Will Graham would initiate it, but in that moment, looking at her sat there, looking so heartbroken, wrapped in her ball it took everything he had to stop himself striding over there. 

But he didn’t, he just stood there, letting her speak the little she did, letting her work her way through it in her own time. She scoffed shaking her head,  
“I didn’t even realise he was there until he was on me, I was asleep and... I couldn’t” no. Alana stopped, instead shaking her head again. 

The pendulum swung once, twice, thre- “don’t,” Alana demanded, bringing him out of the start of his reverie, “please don’t go there. Not now, don’t be him here.” She admitted, there was something so surreal about how lost she sounded, that shamed him immediately for going there now, but his empathy was difficult to control.  
“Sorry.” 

He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what she wanted, so he slowly made his way to the seating area, sitting in a large plush chair instead of the sofa, where he really wanted to be. It felt wrong being here, now, he was a man, he was the enemy and he couldn’t help but wonder why she’d called him and not one of her female friends. Or someone who’d know what to do, someone who wouldn’t be so damn useless. But she didn’t, she’d called him for help, for comfort. And he didn’t know what to do or say, he just sat there, quiet and useless. She deserved better than what he could give her here. 

Silence descended, and he looked over at her again, pieces sliding into place and his heart dropped, “you showered,” he stated dumbly, wincing immediately. Alana had just told him she’d been raped, and that was the first thing he came out with. Fucking thoughtless asshole. But she shouldn’t have, sure he could understand the need but there would have been... (god, it made him feel sick) there would have been evidence, that it was lost now. Alana looked down at herself, nodding, knowing the same thing,  
“he made me,” god, that was worse, “it was cold.”  
“I’m sorry.” 

Sorry. It seemed like some sort of running theme between these two, would anything be said tonight without being followed by an immediate apology? 

It took every ounce of every type of strength he had not to move over and cradle her to his chest, kiss he crown of her head and hunt down the fucker who’d dared hurt her. They were quiet for a little longer, Will felt useless but Alana seemed to just want that, him there them quiet while she tried to process the trauma. Eventually she broke the silence, “I think he took my underwear,” it wasn’t directed at him, in fact, he wasn’t sure she even realised she’d spoken more thinking out loud. The idea cause bile for rise in his throat and Will had to physically swallow, before clearing his throat, voicing a fact they both knew. 

“Alana I need... I still need to take you to the hospital,” he told her watching her deflate even more- how was that even possible? God, he’d give anything to just make it better for her, take the pain away for her. Hell, he’d even take this trauma for her if he could.  
“I know... I know, can we just...” finally looking up to meet his gaze for only a couple of seconds before dropping back down. Will craved more, “sit for a minute.” 

“As long as you need.” They stilled: Alana processing, Will waiting patiently for her to be ready, running through his head at what had to happen next, who had to be called, the route to the closest hospital, anything other than what had happened to her, anything that would stop the pendulums swing.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: Fairly detailed rape kit in this chapter.

It had taken a couple of hours, consisting of the two of them sitting in Alana’s living room in silence just waiting patiently for Alana to be ready to go, ready to make what had happened official and, more difficult, make it _real_ \- not unlike, Will remembered, how he’d sat with Jack several months ago, after just learning of Bella’s cancer just sitting in silence but with company, no longer alone to struggle. But eventually he’d gotten her here, to the hospital where he directed her over to fairly empty seating area while he took on the duty of checking her in. 

It wasn’t until he’d finally reached the reception desk, an older heavyset nurse looking up at him expectantly (clearly exhausted and far from happy at the difficult hours she was stuck with on this shift, clearly wishing she was tucked up in bed nice and warm and not here where at this time of night most of the patients were alcohol (and stupidity) related injury) that Will realised he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say. 

Avoiding eye contact had become second nature to Will after years of practice he’d perfected the art, his time his eyes settling with ease on one of her earrings, they were large, tacky and looked pretty cheap ‘Pat Butcher Earrings’ and old British friend of his would have described them, and cleared his throat more to buy himself more time to think about what to say than anything else. “My friend needs to check in. She needs a-” he hesitated, Adam’s Apple jumping as he swallowed hard, forcing the words up and out of his mouth, “a rape kit.” 

The nurse’s gaze immediately flicked to the corner where the woman he’d come in with sat, her face softening immediately at the sight of her, arms folded across her stomach, body hutched over itself as she sat on the hard, plastic chairs in her pyjamas and dark coat. Watching the nurse, Will could feel the instant sisterhood she forged with Alana, regardless of the others lack of knowledge and he couldn’t help but wonder how long women would be producing invisible bonds with her upon learning of her assault. Probably always. _You were assaulted? Well we’ll look after you now, and with our bond no harm will ever fall to you again_ whether the attack was last week, last year, or last decade. 

A clipboard and pen were passed to Will, “she’ll need to fill these out, and then I’ll make sure a SANE nurse gets down here as soon as physically possible,” she promised. Briefly, Will wondered what _SANE_ nurse specifically was, he’d thankfully had very little interaction with sexual assault, even less with survivors of sexual assault (he couldn’t think of Alana as a victim) and was a little rusty with the initial procedures. And for a second thought about asking, but instead offered her a brusque nod, wanting to get back to Alana’s side. 

“Here,” he said once he’d reached her, his whisper too loud in the strangely quiet room and he seated himself next to her, but at the adjoining wall of the corner. “They won’t be long, I don’t think,” he added honestly, believing the new bond between Alana and the older nurse would mean she wouldn’t have the poor stranger waiting an longer than absolute necessary. 

He was right, it couldn’t have been fifteen minutes after he’d returned the forms that another woman, blonde hair tied back tight, her scrubs hanging loose over her skinny body, perhaps a little closer to skinny than healthy, “Alana Bloom?” she asked and Will looked around the seats, it was a pretty safe guess Alana being the only female patient waiting to be seen. She nodded and the nurse offered a friendly smile, “my name is Claire, I’m your SANE nurse tonight would you like to come this way?” Alana’s blue eyes flicked to Will, who looked back at her, gaze finding the bruised cheek, and Claire understood immediately, “you’re friend-“  
“Will.”  
“Will can come too if you’d be more comfortable.” 

Alana said nothing, but nodded still looking at him. They both stood and followed the nurse down the sterile corridors and into a private examination room, their shoulders brushing every so often, letting Alana know she’s wasn’t alone there. He wasn’t going to let her go through this alone, he was right there with her. Finally in the exam room, the nurse motioned to a chair for Alana before sitting by her, Will moving to a seat out of the way of the two women. 

Claire took her place by Alana, clipboard on her lap ready to take notes to be typed up later, it was more personal this way, without the distance and a large desk between them, “okay, as I said before I’m your SANE nurse, that’s a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner, basically I’m going to be the one to help you though the exam and be primarily responsible for your care here this evening.” Claire paused, clearly waiting for some response from her, but getting none. 

However, she seemed unfazed and continued anyway, “I know this is going to be difficult for you, but we’ll try and get it all done as quickly and efficiently as possible. There are several stages to the collection of evidence in a sexual assault,” she began, “and before each step I’ll stop and let you know exactly what to expect and there’ll be no surprises for you. It’s really important that you remember that at any point if you’re feeling uncomfortable or unhappy with what is going on, if you want to stop or need a break just let me know and I’ll stop. You’re in complete control here, Alana.” Alana said nothing but nodded her understanding. 

Claire scribbled something on the clipboard quickly before once again her attention was completely on the doctor. “Before we start with the physical exam, I’m going to need what happened in as much detail that you can,” there was a pause, where Alana took a deep breath, folding one hand over the other trying to hide that she was shaking, “it’ll really help me know what I need to concentrate on and gather as much evidence I can.” 

Her eyes sought Will, who hadn’t looked away from her since entering the room. He knew how much of a struggle this was going to be for her, and if he had the option he’d do it for her, but that wasn’t a choice. “Okay,” came Alana’s voice, before telling what had happened in as much detail she could master. Her tone was formal, clear, precise, and she spoke about her ordeal with such an obvious clinical detachment, that if Will closed his eyes and blocked out the sterile hospital he could almost imagine she was teaching a class, telling of the horrors of some stranger neither of them knew.

Almost. 

She didn’t go into too much detail, and for that Will was thankful. He wasn’t quite sure he could handle hearing too much detail just yet about waking up with a man already on top of her, after already crawling into her home, and sliding into her bed while she slept, assuming (as she should have been able to) that she was safe in her own home. He thought about his little house in Wolf Trap, the one place he felt safe, his one constant. The thought of that one little bit of shelter being so cruelly destroyed made him feel, his hands balling on his lap. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right that this had happened to her.

Every pause Alana took, every breath Will prayed that was it, that was the end of her description, that she didn’t need to tell anymore, but every time she carried on, started on something else, remembered another detail, had his heart sink, his fists tightening their grasp as the colour in his knuckles faded to white, his jaw fluttering was the muscles clenched until they ached. 

Finally Claire put her notes down on the desk next to the computer behind her, and Will realised Alana was finished, “okay, you’re doing really great Alana. Now we’re going to get to the more physical aspect of the exam, first things first,” she reached for a couple of familiar cotton swabs and Will flashed back to a dozen crimes scenes he’d seen, twisted corpses and torn skin, “I’ll take an oral swab, all I’ll do is swab the inside of your mouth, I’m going to be needing two swabs from every area throughout the exam. Um.. after I’ve done, if you could rinse your mouth with water,” she nodded to the glass of water by Alana’s side, “and we’ll prepare for the Buccal sample. Don’t worry it’s all completely painless.” 

The oral swab was done efficiently and easily, as was the Buccal sample, similarly taken with a cotton swab to the inside of her cheek and the unnecessary explanation that it was for a control sample of Alana’s DNA. After every smear the evidence was sealed, labelled and placed carefully to the side until the next sample was added to the growing pile. 

“Okay, great. Now, were these the clothes you were wearing during the assault?” Claire asked motioning to the plaid pyjama bottoms and plain black tank top, Alana nodded as she was guided over to what looked like a large sheet of exam table paper, “okay, I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I’m going to ask you to get undressed now,” Claire said beginning the description of what she had to expect to come, and of course reiterating that should she need to, all Alana had to do was ask and she’d stop immediately. 

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat across the way, Will was looking down at his own lap, giving her some impression of privacy while still being there to offer what support he could in that moment. He didn’t look up, staring down hearing the familiar sound of clothing shuffle and being removed, Claire said something else, neither really hearing what it was she said but the sudden appearance of a camera which moved from bruise to scratch to nasty bite on her shoulder, cataloguing each marring of her skin. 

From time to time the nurse had to reposition her a little; twisting her hand to properly show the fingertip bruises around her wrist, tilting her head back a little exposing the nasty bruise on her slightly swollen jaw. Every touch was careful and precise, kind but quick and Claire’s fingers never lingered on Alana’s cold skin, doing the task at hand but never staying longer than necessary, something Alana simultaneously was thankful for, but desperately craved the gentle contact. 

At long last, the camera was returned back to the desk, careful, careful- no sudden movements or loud noises least you startle the doctor. And there it was again, that smile Claire insisted on giving, the one that oozed sympathy and Alana was developing an irrational hatred for, before she carefully took two swabs of the nasty bite on her shoulder, “I think I’m going to but some gauze on this, it’s not too bad but I don’t think it’ll hurt,” the nurse said gently covering the bite before dropping her gaze to the ground. 

Alana’s gaze followed, there was an unfortunately little trace evidence that had fallen to the paper, both women thinking of the shower she was forced to have. Claire cleared her throat and handed her patient a crisp hospital gown to finally cover herself. The gown was loose and uncomfortable but it provided her with some much needed privacy, and Alana eagerly pushed it up her arms, while following the nurse back to the examination table, for her to jump up onto. Once she was seated semi-comfortably, Claire stood behind her taking hold of Alana’s hair dark thick hair, struggling slightly at the tangles she encountered, watching as a few strands of hair and bits fall onto a held piece of paper as she continued to comb. Once the nurse was satisfied the paper was carefully folded before both it and the comb were also sealed into a fresh envelope. 

Alana’s whole body jolted with the sudden surprise and unexpected pain as Claire began pulling several ‘control samples’ of her own hair from various areas of her head. She knew it was coming but still. Another wave of humiliation flooded her, as horrid as this whole night had been, she’d now sunk so low that she literally had to sit there as another woman yanked strands of hair from her head. As petty as it sounded it was just another little bit of humiliation she had to deal with and she was approaching her limit. 

But still she sat there, biting her tongue, straightening her spine and subconsciously pulling away from her nurse; the bashful apology she heard meaning nothing. 

“Okay, that parts done,” Claire finally promised scooting her stool around to sit in front of her and part of her seriously flashed with the secret desire to punch her scrawny face the next time Claire said the word ‘okay’. “Now, I’m just going to do a quick fingernail scraping. Here I’ll just-“  
“I know. You can just,” vague hand gestures in a ‘carry on’ motion.  
“Okay.” Alana visible tensed. 

Reaching for Alana’s left hand, placing it on a small table attached to the bed, on top of another piece of clear paper, and the doctor closed her eyes as she scrapped under her fingernails collecting any trace and debris that was hiding there, before clipping each nail. The paper, the clippings and anything found was all collected and folded into yet another envelope, which was sealed and added to the ever growing pile, before Claire repeated the process with the right hand. 

“Now, I know this is going to be really challenging but I’m going to have to start the pelvic exam,” the nurses gaze glanced at Will who shifted uncomfortably, clearly (and unsurprisingly) unhappy with even the thought of a pelvic examination, “we’ll start with a pubic hair combing, which is just like we did before, after that I’ll just do a few swabs of your vagina.” 

There was a clear, hard swallow from the woman sat up on the hospital bed, she was clearly nervous and uncomfortable, but still she nodded, eyeing the stirrups at the bottom of the bed, looking almost like they were venomous and about to strike. 

Will was angry as he stood up. Furious with himself as he made his way to the bed, clearing his throat, “Alana I...” he looked at the nurse, at her latex covered hands, “I still need to call Jack. I’ll,” he motioned to the door with a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll just be right outside.” Fuck. He was livid, and even though Alana agreed and accepted, each step away from her made him hate himself even more. But there were some thing he just... he shouldn’t be around during, there were some things he couldn’t see. 

Instead he pulled his phone from his pocket and searched for the number (unfortunately the most called number) of Crawford, Jack. 

Back inside the room, Alana took a deep breath before leaning back, forcing herself to raise one leg to the stirrups then the other, blue eyes squeezing shut tight as she heard the other woman settle the stool between her parted legs. Fuck, she didn’t want to do this anymore, she just wanted to go home and pretend this hadn’t happened. Obviously, though, that was no longer an option. 

Claire was swift and gentle with her as she worked trying to collect any evidence while causing as little discomfort as possible for the woman who’d already been through so much tonight. 

Of course, however, there was no way for this to be completely comfortable and without any pain whatsoever, and as the nurse pulled several strands of Alana’s pubic hair she couldn’t stop the physical reaction as she jumped up and away, a little worse than before. “Sorry, we’re almost finished.” 

Somewhere in the hall Alana could hear the distant sound of Will’s voice, although it was unclear what exactly he was saying she could make out that it was him and she reflexively turned her head to the sound. There was a curtain that had been pulled around the bed providing a certain amount of privacy for Alana away from the outside world. However, the curtains had parted a little, not far enough to really be able to see though into the room unless you were _really_ looking, but she could see out, and her stare immediately landed on Will. 

He wasn’t facing her, looking down at the corridor while actually facing to the left as he explained to Jack what had happened that night, but there was something about just watching him, knowing he was right there should she need him, just through those doors after racing to her side in the middle of the night to be by her side after a panicked phone call. 

Somewhere in the distance she could vaguely make out the sensation of the cotton buds collecting whatever samples she really didn’t want to think about, but the majority of her attention was on Will and her conflicted feelings as she watched him. She couldn’t deny or pretend what she knew about Will, about his instability or his unbalanced emotional nature. He was probably one of the most illogical choices of people she could have called to be by her side tonight, anyone _anyone_ would have made more sense than Will Graham but, having said that, he was the _only_ person she wanted there, the only number she’d even thought to call. 

And now, she watched him though curtain and glass, as he leant back against a wall pulled his old glasses (the same ones he had throughout the years she’d known him) off his face before pinching the bridge of his nose (he looked tired) and was filled with comfort. Unstable, and unpredictable as he might have been she knew he would do anything she asked of him. He was a good man with a big heart, he was just afraid and confused, and it shattered her to think of some of the whispers she’d heard about him around the-  
“Okay Alana, we’re almost done, I just need to do a swab of your back passage and-“  
“No. He didn’t. You don’t need to.”  
“Okay,” Claire nodded, moving back to let her put her legs down, “then I just need a blood sample and we’re done. There’s a bathroom right through there if you want to shower, I left some clothes for you to change into.” 

Blinking Alana looked down at Claire unable to believe she was actually done, that this stage, arguably one of the most challenging, had been completed with her barely realising what was happening, her conscious too wrapped up in Will Graham. Before she sat up, Alana gave another glance at him between the curtains before sitting and offering her arm for the blood to be drawn. 

“Alright, I’m going to put this in safe storage, please feel free to shower, take as long as you like. Would you like me to bring Will in on my way out?”  
Alana nodded, “thank you,” she said nodding to the box in Claire’s hand thanking her for so much more than bringing Will in. 

It was seconds when Will re-entered the room and Alana actually looked up actually meeting his gaze, although only for a second, “you okay?”  
“Yeah. I really think I am. Thank you... For being here.”  
Will blushed, actually blushed as he shook his head. “Jack’s going to be here soon,” he promised looking down at his feet, “he um.. wanted to go to the.... scene first.” Alana tensed, “he’s taking over the case- I don’t think either of us are surprised.”  
“No.”  
There was a pause, “he wants me to meet him there. I won’t be long, I promise and I already called Hannibal, you won’t be alone.”  
“It’s fine. Really,” it both was and wasn’t at the same time, “I’m going to have a shower anyway.”  
“I really will only be a little while.”  
“It’s fine.”  
* * *

Although Alana had already showered directly after the attack, it had been completely different to this. This was what she needed, what she wanted, a hot, lengthy shower that was completely in her control as opposed to the freezing, unpleasant shower she’d been forced to participate in with her attacker. Needless to say that had done nothing to make her feel clean or unabused in any way. Not to mention that she’d been made to redress back in the same clothes and go through the whole rape kit, which hardly helped her feel like her old self. 

All Alana wanted now was to climb into a hot, steaming, shower and scrub and scrub until her skin was pink and raw- which was exactly what she’d been doing, scrubbing an scrubbing. 

The shower was, although far from perfect, exactly what she wanted- no needed right now. And, although having Will with her, although he’d neither said nor physically done much at this point, had provided her with a support that was second do none. Just knowing he was there with her had given her a vast wave of strength. However, she had to admit there was a large part of her that was actually quite glad he had left for a little while (the same large part of her purposefully ignoring the where and why of his departure) purely because now, this way she could just focus on the shower, on cleaning herself sparkling without worry or thought that Will was out there waiting for her.

Of course she knew he wouldn’t have said anything, or hinted even, that he wanted her to rush, but Alana knew her own mind well. And it would have been all too aware of him waiting patiently in the adjoining room, and she would have been all too paranoid at him noting the length of the shower she took, whether he mentioned it or not. 

She would have if she was in his position. She would have said nothing, but mentally filed away each and every movement of the clock. 

It was the psychiatrist in her. 

How long she had actually been in there, Alana couldn’t really say, but she could tell it was far longer than an average shower (even by her standards, which she had to admit were hardly short) but as she dried off and climbed into the pair of plain grey jogging bottoms and matching jumper Claire had left in there for her she looked wistfully back at the shower, a large droplet of water falling to the still wet floor and she knew she could have happily spent twice as long in there. Three times as long. Four times. 

But instead she unlocked the door and stepped back into the room suddenly surprised but not alarmed to see the forceful, imposing form of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he back to her although he was clearly mid-turn having heard the door. 

She took in the sight of him, as always impeccably dressed, even at the still early hour (although his hair betrayed his lack of shower, he must have come as soon as Will called him), his face softened a little at the sight of her, although she was relieved to see it soften no more than usual. Their long standing friendship and mutual high respect had earned her a small slip of his mask some time ago. 

“I feel underdressed,” she said breaking the silence with a poor attempt at humour. He didn’t laugh, didn’t even crack a smile but she didn’t expect him to.  
“Nonsense,” he dismissed her joke, crossing the distance to her, hands immediately raising his hands to gently cup her head and tilt it back examining her injuries for himself. 

Anyone else, _anyone else_ and his sudden proximity along with his much larger size would have been intimidating and frankly scary on an ordinary day. But this was _Hannibal_ and there had always been something there that stopped whatever everyone else seemed to find so imposing and scary from getting to Alana. 

He was just Hannibal. He had mentored her those years ago, they’d set tongue wagging with imagined scandal, and they still laughed and joked about it years later. He cooked her dinner and they flirted over beer- her own private reserve, and debated over psychological theories and techniques- Lemongrass Panna Cotta with Macerated Strawberries, her favourite. Sure, Dr Lecter was an acquired taste, but she’d hardly allow him to intimidate her. 

“It’s not that bad,” she told him semi-truthful. Her physical injuries could have been a lot worse- they’d both seen pictures of crime scenes supporting that thought, her psychological trauma however, was something she wasn’t quite ready to think about just yet.  
“It’s bad enough,” satisfied with her medical care so far. Hannibal stepped back, sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, one leg folding easily over the other while Alana sat on the other, purposefully bypassing the examination table. “How are you feeling?”

She couldn’t stop the small quirk of her lips at the question she’d heard so many times in her own voice. So, that’s what that felt like. For a second she thought about making something up, but just as quickly dismissed it. He would know, and he wouldn’t accept it.  
“I’m... I don’t really know. I still feel numb, I don’t think it’s actually hit me what’s happened yet. It still feels like it happened to someone else.” 

She paused looking at Hannibal who said nothing, just waited patiently for her to continue. But she didn’t want to, there was really nothing else to say right now, not until she actually knew what she was feeling. But still the silence stretched on, and his stare never strayed from her (so unlike Will who rarely ever looked directly at her in the first place). “I’m exhausted,” she heard herself saying, “it feels like everything... Everything that has happened was so quick that I’ve barely had chance to catch my breath, but at the same time everything feels like it’s taken forever to get to this point.” Damn, he was good. She could see why he was so high in demand. 

“You cannot leave yet.” It wasn’t a question but she answered anyway shaking her head.

“I have to wait for Jack to give my statement. And they want to go over some things and get a-“ a pause, a swallow, a breath, “a councillor here.”  
“A Rape Crises Councillor?” Organise your own mental health and help you come to terms with what happened,” 

“I know there’s no shame, I’ve worked as a psychiatrist,” Amy moved to take a seat, coming down to Alana’s physical level,  
“then you’ll understand how important help is after a trauma such as this.” 

Alana said nothing, but her nostrils flared. She was stressed, tired, she wanted a shower, a beer, a fluffy pillow and more importantly, for this woman to leave her alone. 

“If I may interject,” came Hannibal’s voice, “perhaps it’s not the therapy sessions you have an issue with Doctor,” he suggested purposefully dropping her title smoothly, “but the blatant reference and reminder to the sexual assault.” Alana remained silent, but dropped her gaze to her lap, “I have a colleague, a friend; Dr. Bedeia Du Maurier, you know her.”  
“By reputation,” her voice was quiet, clearly reaching her limit,  
“she’s an excellent psychotherapist and after her attack- although different in nature, would be able to relate to this case quite easily.”  
“I heard she’d retired,”  
“For the most part. I could talk to her,” there was a pause, Hannibal leant back in his seat, fingers interlocked on his lap, “I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade Dr. Du Maurier to consider speaking with you.” 

There was a long silence, that stretched out uncomfortably until Alana finally gave a very quiet, very meek, “I’ll think about it.” And Hannibal smirked.  
“Do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there wasn't really much detail about what happened with Alana's assault, but we'll know a lot more in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank to everyone who commented/left Kudos for Chapter One- it made me so happy, thank you very much, you enjoyed this chapter and it worked okay.


End file.
